Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (24 page)

“Nothing?”

She blushed. Damn, he hated
himself.

“I’ll get water.”

Humming, she went into the
kitchen. He heard the water go on and off. His heartbeat pounded against his
chest. This was it.

Returning, she continued her
humming and handed him the glass.

“Down the hatch,” she said.

He hesitated, considering how he
could palm these with her being so close.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“I was wondering about side
effects.”

“No side effects.”

“You sure? Because I have some
anger issues.”

“No kidding.” She winked.

“Are you sure it’s safe for me to
take these?” Everyone knew that steroids could inflame a man’s temper.

“Wait a minute. What, exactly, do
you think you’re taking?” She rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms
over her chest.

“Steroids, right?”

Tell me I’m wrong, sweetheart,
please tell me I’m wrong.

Instead of answering him, she
snatched the pills out of his hand. “You’re a jerk.” She stood and marched into
her bedroom.

What the hell was that about? He
heard a crash, followed by a few curse words.

“What’s going on?” he called.

More crashing. “Don’t you come in
here!” She poked her head around the corner. “Don’t you ever come into my room
again without my permission.”

His heart sank. More crashing,
cursing and ...

“Got it!” her voice echoed. She
stormed into the living room and shoved a piece of paper in his face. “Here,
this is what I’ve been giving the boys.”

He read the slip, which listed
vitamin B combinations and herbs, some he recognized, some he didn’t.

“You think I’d give you something
that would hurt you, like steroids? You really think I’d do that?”

He glanced up at her, knowing his
answer was critical. “I’m a federal agent.”

She squared off with him. “You’re
avoiding the question.”

What the hell?

“Didn’t you hear what I just
said?” he asked in disbelief.

“Answer me: Do you believe I’d
give you a dangerous drug?”

He hesitated.

“What does your heart tell you?”
she pressed.

Her green eyes flared, but not
from the intensity of passion. Her eyes seemed lit with determination ... and
hope.

“Sandra, I’m a federal agent,” he
repeated.

“Which means you’re not capable of
answering my question?”

She sat next to him and pressed
her hand against his chest, above his heart. “For once, listen to what’s inside.
Do you really think I would give poison like steroids to people I care about?”

People she cared about. It
terrified him that he was on that list.

“Say it,” she said.

How could he? As a DEA agent he
considered the facts and not his gut. Following his gut is what almost gotten
Chauncy killed.

“Jason?”

He felt the heaviness of her hand
against his chest, as if she were seeking to grab hold of his heart.

“No,” he said.

“No, what?”

“I know you couldn’t hurt someone
you cared about.”

But Jason could.

Keeping her hand against his
chest, she slid her other hand to the back of his neck. “Do you trust me?” she
asked.

Looking into those amazing green
eyes lit with hope, he couldn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. She
leaned forward and kissed him, her lips warm and sweet, like honey.

He was a goner. He’d crossed into
the danger zone, was running headlong into blazing fire and kept on running. He
wanted more of this, much more.

What he needed was a break from
this case, time to get his perspective. Hell, he was so weak he’d given up his
cover to this girl, willingly. What a mistake.

No, that had been a strategic move
to convert her as an ally. This investigation would move faster with someone on
the inside working with him.

You sure it’s about strategy
and not something else?
Damn, how did he end up here? Wanting her trust ...
her love?

He broke the kiss. “I’ve been
lying to you this whole time,” he said, breathless.

“You lie to protect yourself. I
get it.”

“No, this isn’t okay, Sandra. I
lied. I slept with you.”

“No kidding.” She grinned and came
at him for another kiss.

“Stop,” he said, gripping her
shoulders. “I’m a federal agent.”

“You said that already.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I sensed you were hiding
something big. You aren’t exactly the pro wrestling type. Or the stripping
type.”

“And you trusted me anyway?” he
said, dumbfounded.

“Sure. You’ve got a pure,
honorable heart.”

Pure? She must have put whiskey in
her tea instead of honey.

“Pure is not a word I’d use to
describe myself,” he said.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” She
stroked his cheek.

He could only stand so much
compassion. He grabbed her wrist and held her hand away.

“This changes everything,” he
said.

Panic filled her eyes. Panic at
not being able to make love to him again? Nah, he was dreaming. Last night had
been a one-night stand. They both agreed.

“It changes things how?” she
asked.

“I’ve exposed myself to you—”

“Did you ever,” she said with a
grin.

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

“My cover has been compromised. I
should ask for a replacement.”

“Because you told me? I’m one
person. I’m not telling anyone.”

“It’s not that.” He automatically
reached for her hand and she interlaced their fingers. “I think someone else in
BAM knows. That’s why they planted drugs in my bag.”

“To have you arrested?”

“And to get me out of there.”

“Who?”

“I have no idea. I suspected you
were the dealer since the boys said you passed out drugs like candy.”

“Herbal supplements,” she
corrected.

“I get that now. Sorry.”

“The boys think they’re wonder
drugs, so don’t burst their bubble, okay?” she said.

He shook his head.

“What? A little white lie never
hurt anyone, especially if it helps them take care of themselves properly.”

“You are something else, ya’ know
that?”

She looked annoyed. “And you’re a
federal agent. Okay, fed man, why are you posing as Jack the Stripper?”

“Steroids. They’re being
distributed to high school kids. We’ve connected the distribution to BAM’s tour
schedule. Some heartless son of a bitch is playing on the insecurities of
teenage boys to make money.”

“And kids are getting hurt,” she
whispered.

She didn’t press for more
information. He knew it would drive her nuts to think about kids hurting
themselves by abusing steroids, especially steroids supplied by someone in her
wrestling family.

She fingered his hair, slipping a
strand behind his ear.

“There’s only one thing to do,”
she said. “Nail the bastard.”

“Yep.” He closed his eyes,
hypnotized by her warm, soft strokes through his hair.

“So, how do we find him?”

His eyes popped open. “We? There
is no we.” Involving civilians in his investigation wasn’t an option,
especially not Sandy.

Why’s that, because he cared about
her? If he really cared, he’d break ties now.

“I know the business better than
anyone,” she said. “I know the guys, their families, backgrounds—everything.
Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that?”

Why, indeed?

“Because it’s dangerous. I
shouldn’t have told you about it in the first place.”

“But you did.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” she
said. “I’ll follow your orders to the letter.”

And if he ordered her to take off
her T-shirt and jeans?
Get a hold of yourself
.

“Jason, this is my fight, too.
Last year two wrestlers died of heart attacks. The oldest was forty.” She got
up and paced to her entertainment center. “Uncle Terry can’t get out of his
wheelchair long enough to walk to the bathroom. Arthritis? Bullshit. Steroids,
that’s what I think. That stuff strips a man of his dignity and his soul. I
hate it. Let me help.”

“Help him what?” Curt asked from
the doorway.

Hell, how much did he hear?

J looked at Sandy. She had to know
that revealing his identity would destroy his chances of nailing the steroid
dealer.

“I’m trying to get him to quit
using drugs,” she said.

Good recovery. She must have read
his mind.

“Drugs, huh?” Curt said, dropping
his toolbox on the ground and kneeling beside it. Decker stood next to him like
a surgical assistant. “So, the drug bust last night was legit?” Curt asked.

“No, those weren’t my drugs,” J
replied.

“Oh, okay.” Curt glanced over his
shoulder and winked. “They were someone else’s.”

J ground his teeth.

“Actually, they did belong to
someone else,” Sandy defended.

“Whatever.” Curt focused on his
task of fixing the hinge. “I’m not passing judgment. Maybe if Duke had been
using steroids, he would have been stronger when—”

“Shut up, Curt,” Sandy snapped.

“Sorry, okay, sorry.” He sat back
and put up his hands, one still holding a Phillips screwdriver. “Man, I wish
you’d let go of that guilt.”

“What guilt?” J said.

“Nothing. I’ve got yoga class.”
Sandy grabbed a multicolored bag off a chair and headed for the door.

“Sandy, I got your message yesterday,”
Decker said. “I’ve already been invited to the family barbeque.”

“So ... my mom knows you?”

“She does. Curt and I have been
working on her downstairs bathroom.”

“Oh, great, I’ll see you there,
then.”

“I’d be happy to pick you up,”
Decker offered.

“No, that’s okay. I need to show
up with someone Mom doesn’t know.”

“What the hell does that mean?”
Curt said.

“Long story. And you’ve never met
The Stripper, okay?”

Curt shrugged.

“I’ll be back later.” Sandy
hesitated at the door then turned back to Jason. “You’ll be here, right?”

Which he took as,
Please be
here when I get home
.

“Yep,” he said.

She nodded, then glanced at her
brother, who was back to fixing the door. “You’re a jerk,” she said and stormed
off. 

“Sorry, Sandy. Come on, I’m sorry,
okay?” he called after her.

The door to her building slammed
shut.

“You make me crazy!” Curt shouted
after her.

“Sounds like you make her crazy,”
J offered.

Curt spun around, wielding his
screwdriver. J should have kept his mouth shut.

“What do you know, huh?” Curt
said. “I’ve been her big brother for almost thirty years. I know her a little
better than some fly-by-night stripper.”

“Wrestler.”

“I hear you strip better than you
wrestle.” He took a step closer.

Jason didn’t move. He placed his
arm across the back of the couch and eyed his opponent. How did he end up
fighting with Sandy’s brother again?

“Actually,” he said, chuckling, “I
don’t do either very well.”

Curt’s shoulders visibly sagged
and he tossed the screwdriver into the box. “I’m not usually such a jerk,” he
said. “I never seem to say the right thing to her.”

Curt tested the door, moving it
one way, then the other. “I want to help so bad. I want to do the big brother
thing right for once.”

“Sandy’s a pretty independent
person,” J said.

“Too independent,” Curt muttered.

“Why’s that?”

“She takes everything on herself,
like it’s her fault Duke got hurt; it’s her fault Dad got cancer. I mean, come
on, even Sandy the Great can’t cure cancer.”

“I’d love to see her try.” The
words of admiration slipped past J’s lips. He admired her. He cared about her.
It had been a long time since he could say that about anyone.

“Ya’ know, I forgot to pick up
beer,” Curt said. “Decker, could you run over to The Purple Duck and get a case
of Bud?” He tossed his friend car keys.

“Sure thing.” Decker’s eyes lit
up. J figured Curt must drive an eight-cylinder truck with Mag wheels and a
kick-ass sound system.

Decker left and Curt closed the
door. And locked it. Uh-oh. Was this his way of being alone with Jason so he
could beat the crap out of him?

Curt wandered to the stuffed chair
and sat down. He crossed one leg over the other and tapped his fingertips on
the armrest.

Now what?

“I don’t like you,” Curt said.

“You don’t know me.”

Curt put up his hand. “Let me
finish. I don’t know you, you’re right, but I don’t like you because—honestly—I
wouldn’t like any guy who was after my sister.”

“I’m not after—”

“Stop. I see how you two look at
each other. Hell, I can feel the heat between you. And ya know what? A part of
me is glad. I haven’t seen her look like that since Cody Monroe talked her into
bed.”

J shifted on the sofa, hating the
mention of that bastard Monroe.

“I’m her big brother, and I’m
supposed to protect her. God knows Dad isn’t capable of protecting his little
girl.”

“Why’s that?”

“Dad is ... Dad. I can’t explain
it.” Curt sighed. “All I’m asking is that you treat her well, okay? Don’t break
her heart, and don’t lead her on and lie to her. I think she could recover from
anything but another lie.”

Jason almost laughed. “I can’t lie
to her. She sees right through me.”

“Good. Then maybe she won’t be as
devastated this time.”

“This time?”

“Look, I know you mean well.
Everyone does where Sandy is concerned. She’s a nice kid, but she always picks
the wrong guys.”

Like Jason. But she didn’t pick
him for anything other than sex, right? Sure, but Curt didn’t know that.